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09:51:39 - 2001-03-13


So anyway ...

I take all the professional pictures of Andy over to where Mattie Gee works ... a printing press that churns out magazines. And I ask Mattie Gee if he can scan all these pics to .jpg and put them on a zip disk for me.

Sorry ... technical talk ... you wouldn't understand...

He says "no", because this place is so big, he's not in charge of scanning.

But Jennifer is.


Jennifer used to be hired help at one of my jobs back in 1990. Jennifer had a tiny little waist, hefty little boobs and an ass to die for.

She was built like a shit brickhouse if you get my drift.

Before that, I remember seeing Jennifer come into the nightclub I worked at ... anybody remember the name?? That's right..."Stagger Lee's".

I'd see Jennifer walk into the club and I'd sneak peeks at her all night. She'd wear the tightest clothes, showing off that figure like you wouldn't believe.

I never spoke to her in the club...she was way out of my league. Pretty girl...hellacious bod...great dancer which meant great in bed...

Oh. Plus...I was engaged to Susie at the time.

Then, a few years later when Jennifer came to work part time for the magazine I was working at, we struck up a friendship.

That quickly turned into flirting.

We were both married at the time and it was just harmless flirting. But I'd say things like "When I disconnect my wife's brake lines and she goes careening over a cliff and your husband mysteriously disappears off the face of the earth ... you and I are gonna hook up, babe and do the wild thing."

Jennifer would always smile and agree or say something like "Why wait? Let's go get a hotel room now?"

I'd gulp and go running away like the scared little faithful husband/big talker that I was.


That was 12-13 years ago. Jennifer quit at the magazine and now she's working with Mattie Gee.

I haven't seen her in years. And either time hasn't been too kind to her, or I'm deeply in love with my wife ... because ol' Jenny doesn't have that same hypnotic grip on me that she used to.

So yesterday I was like "Jennifer...can you scan these for me in .jpg form and transfer them to zip disk for me?"

What do you think she said??

A) "If you kill our spouses, marry me and have hot sex with me every night."

B) "If you do me right here while everyone watches."

C) "If you bring me some doughnuts."



So this morning, I have to run across town, buy enough doughnuts to feed 14 women and Mattie Gee, run back to the press, give them the doughnuts, get my pics of my baby boy, then run BACK across town to work for my big deadline day.


The things I do for ex-women that I used to lust after who are now just thorns in my side.

Went to a ground breaking ceremony yesterday morning.

...In the pouring rain.

Lemme tell ya ... there's nothing like going to a ground breaking ceremony to take pictures in the pouring rain, with the wind blowing the rain sideways.

Luckily, there was a tent erected for everyone to stand under.

Unluckily, there was about 100 people trying to get under this tiny tent.

So we were all squeezed under there like sardines, everyone trying to get out of the rain.

I'm the ONLY ONE without a coat because I had completely forgotten about the ceremony and thought I was just going to be sitting at a computer all day and didn't bother to take a coat to work.

So I'm smart and maneuver myself into the middle of the crowd, where body heat was keeping me warm.

...Plus...I could grab some ass in there and nobody knew it was me.

...Except I was the only guy in a sea of women. So I didn't grab any ass. But I COULD have.

The Mayor was there. He spoke to me briefly and said he had heard I was running for "Biggest Rat In Town".

He said he always knew I was a "Dirty Rat", but never knew I was one of the biggest.

I laughed the fake laugh you laugh when the Mayor of your city tries to make a joke at your expense.

It goes something like this ...



I didn't have the heart to tell him that I've already heard that joke about 700 times and the contest hadn't even started yet.

I came home about noon yesterday. I was blasting the Ramones in my car on the way home and heard sirens in the song.

"Wow," I said to myself, but was drowned out by Johnny Ramone's buzzsaw guitar riffs. "I've never noticed sirens in the song before."

I pulled into the driveway, shut the car off and the sirens kept going.

Apparently, we were under a tornado warning. Which means a tornado has been spotted on Doppler radar and is heading in my direction.

Damn. I shoulda been a meteorologist...

So I went inside the house, fixed myself a BBQ sandwich and sat and watched the local news. The weather guy was freakfucking out over the sirens.


I took a bite of my sandwich and grinned.


I finished my sandwich, got up and looked out the windows.


Well damn. If we're really all going to die, I've got to check my email first.

Checked my email with the weatherman bleating at me to get in my bathtub and cover myself with sofa cushions.

Thanks for the emails people!! You know who you are.

I went back to the den and the weatherman was wishing his wife and children farewell as he expected to be in the middle of a twister at any given moment.

As it turns out, there wasn't a tornado. It was just a slight wind gust. Or at least that's what the weatherman said once he threw the sofa cushions off his body and climbed out from under his desk.

Our local weather people crack my ass up.

I'm running against two of them in the Biggest Rat contest.

This should be a piece of cake.

Morton Downey Jr. is dead at the age of something.

I guess what I'll remember most about Morton Downey Jr. is that he always was smoking and had a lung removed because he couldn't stop smoking.

Oh. And he was a pretty big asshole.

I repeat...Morton Downey Jr....dead of assholiness at the age of something.

Susie got home last night after a particularly shitty day and I didn't have dinner ready.

"What's for dinner," she snarled.

"I don't care WHAT you say," I said. "We are NOT having Papa John's pizza for dinner and that's FINAL."

She sighed.

"Go ahead and call them."

I giggled, clicked my heels and called Papa John's.

Reverse psychology works SO WELL on her!

I went to pick the pizza up because Papa John's delivery sucks wet moose balls.

If you rely on their delivery, my pizza wouldn't get here until Saturday. That's how bad it is here.

So I get to Papa John's and the counter girl is on the phone with some moron who apparently has never ordered a pizza before in his freakin' life.

She kept saying "No sir, you only get THREE toppings with that and FIVE on the other pizza" or some crap like that. This went on for about three minutes, which doesn't sound long, but when you're standing there starving and your pizza is sitting ten feet away from you and all you want is your pizza and you have cash in hand and could just grab the pizza, throw her the cash and run out the door if it wasn't against the law ... three minutes of listening to a girl argue with an idiot over pizza is a LONG time.

Finally, she gets off the phone and actually APOLOGIZES to me for the wait.

That's a shock. An actual apology from a pizza store employee. Somebody call Ripley's because I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!! for the pizza, take the pizza to the van, get in the van...and just out of curiosity ... I lift the lid to make sure the pizza order is right.

Because Papa Johns' has screwed me on more than one occasion by screwing up my order.


Hand-tossed crust. I SPECIFICALLY asked for thin crust.

I closed the box up to the best of my ability, but I'll be honest...I've never been able to get a pizza box to close correctly in my whole damned life. There's always one edge hanging out. Maybe it's just me. I dunno.

I march back into Papa John's and toss the pizza down on the counter.

"Oh oh," Phone Girl says.

"Oh oh is RIGHT, beeyotch," I say. "You people totally fucked up my order and now my evening is shot all to hell."

"What's wrong," she said, looking at the pizza like there should be a decomposed rat on top.

"I SPECIFICALLY asked for thin crust and this," I say, waving my hand over the pizza, "is NOT thin crust."

"We're sorry sir, we'll make you another one," she says.

"I can't eat your hand-tossed pizza," I explained to everyone in the building. "It makes me retch."

"We'll make you another one," she says.

"I never would eat Papa John's Pizza until you guys came out with the thin crust pizza because your hand-tossed pizza makes my stomach feel like it's full of goat shit."

"We'll make you another one," she says.

"And furthermore," I said. "Would it KILL you people to use canned mushrooms instead of those fresh little pieces of shit? They're so dry when you put them in your mouth. They suck all the saliva out of my system like little tiny sponges."

"We'll make you another one," she says.

"Thank you," I huffed. "How long will that take?"

"It's done sir," she said, handing me the pizza.

"Very well then," I said. "I DESPISE your hand-tossed crust by the way."

"We're sorry sir," she said. "Would you like a refreshing soft drink compliments of Papa John's?"

"No thank you," I replied. "I'm trying to watch my girlish figure."

And with that I left.


I wasn't REALLY rude. But they did give me the wrong crust and I did wait quietly for another pizza to be baked.

And ya know...if they have to make a pizza in a hurry, those kids can whip one out in about seven minutes.

I timed them.

All this mumbo jumbo crap about "You can pick up your pizza in 30 minutes" is malarkey, my friend.

I coulda called it in, left the house and gotten there and the pizza been ready if they had a fire under their asses, MAKING them whip that pizza up.


Have a good day, my little shithead friend.

Uncle Bob loves ya.


GEORGE CLINTON'S "Hey Good Lookin'"

Maaaaan...if you wanna get down wit' da this number. I was strutting around my house doing the chicken dance to this tune last night. Of course, poor Andy thinks his dad's retarded.


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